


Itching to see you

by therosystarling



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Cutesy shit, Fluff, M/M, Reddie, but still cutesy shit, not even a kiss involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 23:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13534992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therosystarling/pseuds/therosystarling
Summary: When Ritchie hasn't heard from Eddie in a few days, he sets out to find where's he's been.





	Itching to see you

**Author's Note:**

> (Set at around 8th grade. Obviously swearing in the story since it's Ritchie. Made to be a one-shot.)

"Why didn't you fucking call me?" The words were hissed through Richie's teeth. He launched himself through Eddie's opened window, landing with a painful thud on his carpet.

"What the hell are you doing here, you asshole?" Are you trying to get us both killed?" Eddie had been happily tucked away in bed just moments earlier, quietly reading before Richie's frantic window pounding scared the shit out of him. He slid the window shut behind him as quietly as possible and bolted to his door. He opened it a crack and paused, letting out a relieved sigh when he could hear his mother still snoring from across the house in her room. He clicked the door closed and locked it behind him, staring at a frazzled Richie who seemed to be in a full blown panic mode. "Are you insane?"

"Where have you been? Why didn't you call me back?"

Eddie rolled his eyes. "You seriously came over here in the dead of night to see why I wouldn't call you?"

"First of all, Grandpa, it's barely past ten, so don't shit your diaper. Second, you have called me every time you've been sick since we were eight. Why haven't you called me? It's been days! Why don't you want to talk to me?" Richie stopped and stared at Eddie. Really stared at Eddie. "Holy fuck. What's on your face? What's all over it?" He cupped Eddie's cheeks and looked him over like he was studying a map. "What the hell are all these spots?"

"It's nothing," Eddie tore away from Richie's grip. "Seriously. Just go home. I'm fine. I'll be back to school on Monday."

"Come on. I'm not stupid, Eddie. What is it? What do you have? Come on, let me see!" He grabbed at Eddie's shirt, pulling it up, checking his torso.

"Richie! Stop," Eddie squealed. "What are you doing? That tickles!"

Richie paused, quietly looking at Eddie's stomach. "Eddie. What is this? What do you have all over you? What are these?" He dropped the hem of Eddie's shirt and tugged one of his sleeves up. "Christ. They're here, too. Jesus. Do you have the plague or something? Holy shit. Are you...dying? Fuck."

Eddie groaned. "No, Richie. I'm not dying."

"Then what is all this shit all-"

Eddie cut him off. "Ritch. Look at the bottle on my nightstand." He grabbed it and held it out in front of him, shaking it a little.

"...Calamine lotion?"

"Yeah, genius. I have chicken pox. Happy now?"

Richie blankly looked at the bottle. "Isn't that the shit you usually get in like, kindergarten?"

"Well, not me." Eddie slapped it back down on his nightstand. "Guess I'm just lucky like that."

Richie frowned. "So, this whole time. You've been ignoring me...because you have _chicken pox?_ "

"I didn't want the whole school to know!"

"I wouldn't tell!"

"Oh, bullshit, Richie! I'm never going to live this down, and you know it."

Richie chuckled softly. "Dude, I'm not telling anyone. Seriously. I'm not _that_ much of a dickhead." He flopped down on Eddie's bed, patting the spot next to him to motion Eddie to sit. "Chicken pox. Jesus. You scared the shit out of me." He gave Eddie a quick glance up and down. "You still itchy?"

Eddie gently sat down, eyeing Richie suspiciously. "Y-yeah. A little. It's gotten better. I should be fine by this weekend. You promise you're not going to tell anyone?"

"The only one who'll give you shit is me. Swear."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks. I knew could count on you." He scratched at his skin absentmindedly.

"When's the last time you put on lotion?"

"I don't know. Why?"

Richie grinned. "Let me fix you up."

"Yeah. No. I can put on my own lotion, thanks."

"Come on, Eds! Let me help. It's the least I can do for bothering you in your delicate condition."

Eddie sighed. "I'm not pregnant, Richie." Richie shot him an exaggerated pout. "Ugh. Fine. Have at it." He passed Richie the bottle of lotion and rolled up one of his sleeves.

"Look," Richie muttered, as he began to dab on the pink goop. "I'm sorry. I got worried. But, I mean, you'd do the same if one of us wasn't picking up the phone, right?" Eddie hesitated, but then nodded. "Besides, school is boring when you're not there. You're leaving me with stick-up-his-ass Stan, who is not appreciating _any_ of my great wisdom and humor. And Mike, who actually _does_ , is barely in any of my classes, so I can only have fun with him at lunch. And I have to watch Ben and Bill have a pissing contest over Bev every twenty minutes. All that gooey lovesick shit. And I refuse to be subjected to it alone anymore."

"Oh, please. Like _you're_ not drooling over Bev, too?"

Richie snorted. "I'm disappointed in you, Eds. I have class. I do not 'drool' over Bev. And I'm not into redheads. I have a completely different type."

"So you upgraded from 'A pulse?'"

"Oh, har har, Eds. Maybe I should see your mom on my way out. I bet she'd like to feel something pulsing from me." He stopped dabbing the calamine. "Anyway. This one's done. Other arm."

Eddie huffed, annoyed. He held his arm out, allowing Richie to roll up the sleeve for him. "You are not doing my stomach. Or back. Or any other part."

Richie raised an eyebrow. "Oh! You have it other places? Do tell, Eds!" 

"Just shut up and get it over with!"

Richie snickered, continuing on with his work. Pretty soon, that arm had also been adorned with pink dots. "Looks good. Okay. Now your face."

"I told you, no other part. I think I can handle my-"

Richie bopped the tip of Eddie's nose with his calamine-soaked finger.

"...I'm pretty sure I did not have a spot there," he grumbled.

"I know. But you look adorable." He began to dab Eddie's cheeks softly. 

Eddie felt himself beginning to blush a bit. Did Richie _really_ have to be so close to his face?

"Uh, Ritch?"

"Hmm?" 

"What's your type?"

"My type of what?" Richie asked, moving to Eddie's forehead with the lotion.

"Of...person. You said redheads weren't your type. What's your type?"

"Oh," Richie paused, thinking for a second. "I mean. I didn't mean Bev was like....ugly or anything. She's cool. Just...not what I like." He began gently patting Eddie's chin with lotion.

"Yeah, I get what you mean. But, do you like...blondes or something?"

"Hmm. Don't know." Richie's forehead scrunched up in thought. "I guess they're okay. I think I like...darker hair, though. Maybe someone on the smaller side. Definitely someone cute."

"Oh," Eddie squeaked. "Yeah. Cool. Sounds nice." He mentally slapped himself. Sounds nice? Who says 'sounds nice' other than his grandmother?

Richie smiled, humming quietly to himself as he finished up with Eddie's face. "And...we...are...almost..." he made a few final swipes around Eddie's face. "Done!" He capped the Calamine bottle back closed and leaned back as if he was admiring his work. "You sure you're good? How about legs?" 

"I'm good. Please. No more. It's almost ten-thirty. You need to go home." He grabbed the bottle from Richie and placed it on his nightstand.

Richie shrugged. "Yeah. Guess tomorrow is Friday. School calls, I guess." He stood and stretched, making his way towards Eddie's window. "So...I'll see you Monday?"

Eddie gave him a small grin. "Absolutely. And. Uh. Thanks. For helping me. I think." He got off the bed to follow him.

Richie grabbed the window to open it, but quickly stopped himself. "Hey, Eddie? Quick question?" 

"Yeah?"

"...How contagious is chicken pox?"

Eddie frowned. "Very. Very, very contagious. Why?"

"Oh. Do you...uhh...do you remember if I had it?"

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Please be fucking joking with me right now."

Richie shrugged. "Dead serious, sorry. Guess I'll find out pretty soon though, huh?" He slid the window open as far up as it could go. "Oh, and one more thing, Eds? Make sure you wash your face tomorrow morning. Before mommy comes to wake you." He reached out and lightly pinched Eddie's cheek. "Cute, cute, cute." He winked at Eddie before he left, dashing across Eddie's lawn and giving a final wave before disappearing out of sight.

Eddie pushed the window closed, sealing it tight. He touched his face, suddenly concerned over Richie's request. Fearing the worst images that could have been possibly plastered all over him, he crept to the bathroom, and flicked on the light to look in the mirror.

Hearts. 

Richie had shaped all the lotion dots on his face into hearts.

He sighed, brushing his hair from his face. He began to run water from the tap to wipe it off when the words came flooding back to him.

_I like darker hair, though. Maybe someone on the smaller side. Definitely someone cute._

_Cute, cute, cute._

He turned the tap off and found himself blushing again.

The hearts could stay for the night.


End file.
